The Ready Room is nice and quiet, and dim. Up front, the projection screen has been rolled down, and footage is streaking across the darkened white. An air engagement, but while there are plenty of Vipers diving at each other there are no Raiders on the screen at all. Roubani is sitting up near the front of the chair rows, several large manuals and notebooks open in front of him. He chews on a pen as he watches the dogfighting, remote in his right hand.

Into the ready room walks Absalom. He's apparently expecting a briefing of some sort, since, as he stares at the dogfight on the screen, he looks down at the page of paper he's carrying, and then back at the dogfight. "I miss something?" he asks, mostly to himself.

Half in and out of his flight suit, Someone has freshly returned from running sims- and is probably preparing a little early for CAP briefing. Still- Hale's got his helmet under one arm, and a stack of papers in the other. Personally he seems ready for some briefing, or at least getting things ready for the various night shifts to come-the joy of finally pulling something earlier than dog watch on the ship. There's a look towards the projector, before he is looking on over to where the JiG has seated himself. A faint raise of his brows-before eyes are sliding towards Absalom who came in only moments before.

"Gents."

Roubani sits up a little at the noises behind him, thumb pressing pause on the remote. A viper stops in midflight, lights on its fore blazing. "No, no," he tells Absalom. "I was just…reviewing something." Twisting a little more to see the second presence, he says, "Lieutenant. I was hoping I'd see you around." Uh oh.

"Right." Absalom says, watching the screen fade, before he looks over at Hale who stands a few steps behind him. As Roubani mentions he's looking to speak with the other Lieutenant, Absalom asks, "Need me to leave?" edging a little towards the door.

The hatch swings open as another figure appears, clutching a binder a pile of papers under his arm. A subdued looking Lt. Price lopes in. Dressed in his duty greens, Wil's head cranes his about in a somewhat inquisitive fashion, his eyes blinking in a similar manner once or twice as takes in the ready room, clearing his throat. "Sorry I'm late. Er. Am I late?"

there's a look back towards Absalom, before Roubani's caught his attention-again. So Hale's own brow arches as things are set on an empty desk. "Y' were? Finally got m' bachelor party figured out with Mooner?" he asks, before there's a look as yet another face joins the party going on in here. With any luck it can be a celebration that will last throughout the year. "Oi, bro." called over to Willem. "Come on in!" Though really it is Roubani's show.

"I don't think so," Roubani offers to Absalom. "No hush-hush, I was just having a thought or two. Oh, Price…late? I don't believe so. We're CAP partners now, you know. Come in, I rather wanted to talk to you as well." His finger gestures idly to the flight board, then he looks at Hale. "Oh no, Thorn is far better at that sort of thing. Far better. Price, did you know Hale is getting married? Well, you do now."

Kai arrives from the Hallway - Hangar Deck.
Kai has arrived.

Absalom nods a couple of times, and then starts for one of the chairs near the middle of the ready room. He sets his helmet down in the empty seat next to him, and looks over at Hale, "Congrats," he says in the man's direction, before looking down at his assignment sheet.

"Heh. Likewise. You'll be regretting it later, Poet, I'm sure." First things first, a response to Roubani as well as a nod to Absalom. "Well, I do -now-," the reddish-haired pilot echoes Roubani's words as he meanders over towards a front-row aisle seat and sets his belongings down upon the floor with a 'thunk.' "Congratulations, Rabbit. Huh. It's an epidemic. Somebody call the doc." Wil says in a muted tone, with slow words paced one after the other. A slightly stupid half-grin hangs on his features as he flashes a bit of teeth. "Don't let Bangbang find out."

"Thanks mate-" said back towards Absalom, as he is moving to set down and join the watchering, or what have you. "What's on your mind?" asked back towards Poet, as papers are rifled through and put into some semblance of order. After all someone has to talk all big and say things like: Don't get shot down- mess up and the Chief'll skin you.. You know-normal words to live by. Hand coming to the back of his head, and Hale's looking back with a half-goofed grin to Price.

"Thanks, Rebound. Seems to be-though I have th' Captain wonderin' for a date- If you all want it done first we can simply wait." Yeah a tease there, before he's flashing that grin back. "We were thinking of asking Sam, since Thorn brought it up-"Oh where is lambkins, for a great lovely rib like that?

Roubani shifts again on his chair, pulling a leg up under him so it's bracing him up a little. Now he can see everyone. The projection screen is still paused on what looks like a dogfight training exercise, Wolf-6 visible frozen in mid-space. He rests a bent arm on his chair back, letting the small talk drizzle away, until his soft voice answers Hale with the ultimate nonsequitur. "If I said 'Let's assault the cylons', what wold you say?"

Kai arrives just on the heels of Willem's 'congratulations', so he's likely missing out on some context. He greets the roomful of pilots with an understated, "Evening, boys," and — coffee in hand — heads for his desk at the back. Anyone paying attention to the flight duty board might have noticed that the CAG's had his flight status suspended, which might account for the officer's blues and the desk duty.

Absalom looks over his shoulder back towards Kai as he comes in, and gives him a half salute, before getting back to his reading. The question that Roubani asks of Hale catches his attention though, and the pilot looks over at the pair a bit curiously.

"I dare you to throw an epic, memorable party. I dare you." He lets out a half-cough, half-snicker at the mention of Sam. He seems on the verge of saying something else when Roubani speaks as he snaps his mouth shut and turns quickly to spy the younger man. "What would I say? I'd say my thumb was so out of joint from being jammed up my ass waiting for such an opportunity, it might be a little stiff on the fire control trigger." Wil tosses out glibly in Roubani's general direction, waggling his eyebrows. He then clears his throat. "Um. Yeah. Sorry. To rephrase — the answer's 'yes'." It does bring a sparkle to his eyes, even if he stumbled a little over the joke. He tosses off a salute to the CAG as the man meanders on in, shortly thereafter.

Hale offers a nod towards the CAG as he comes in-"Captain." chimed out almost like clockwork-however, Roubani did manage to sneak that small time bomb right in under his nose. His mouth hangs a bit open in clear surprise!thought- before he's finally closing it "Hmm." That is the best the senior lieutenant can offer for the second. "If you said, let's assault the cylons, I'd probably say-how th' hell are we going to do it?" Mind you his little bit of tactics were used when getting the survivors back from the surface. "An yeah- What Price said."

"Sir," Roubani interjects towards Kai. The CAG's presence doesn't seem to surprise or bother him, as his focus goes back to the three men. There's a touch of a smirk Wil's way. "I do feel almost sorry for any Raider that gets in your way, Price." He lifts one of his long fingers, pointing back at the paused screen. "I was thinking about that the other night, Hale, which is why I rather needed the help." His voice is quite focused now. "Do any of you recall the training exercise we did against the Odysseus? It must have been about a month before the war began."

Kai skirts out of the group's way, apparently intending on dealing with his massive mountain of paperwork tonight, rather than crashing their party. He thumps on over to his desk, eases into the chair, and unlocks a drawer with his paperwork inside. There's a glance toward the conversation now and then, but otherwise the Captain keeps to himself.

"I'd feel sorrier for my broken thumb. I'd probably break a nail, these days." Wil tosses out, languidly as he sits a little straighter in his chair, with another one of those goofy smirks. "But staying on topic. In all seriousness, that wargame where a certain then-Ensign had an idea of going in with cold systems? That?"

"I'd hate t' be Persy or any doc havin' t' fish that one out." Hale fires back with a grin to Willem. "Oh bloody- Yeah, I vaguely remember that one." He does remember getting a few birds down, amongst his own ass being shot to pieces. That was a lovely time, but you cannot win them all, right? "You thinkin' of having us go in with our systems cold?" Let us comment upon the obvious- or at least the conclusion everything seemed to be leaning to.

Roubani glances at Willem's nails for a second. He can't help it. Then his attention comes back. "That one, yes. I was watching the footage of it just now." He gives the screen a slight nod. It's near the end of the dogfighting gangbang, most of the Odysseus' Raptors showing their 'neutralised' lights. "It would have to be readjusted to account for what we know of the cylons systems, and…of course there's the issue of tactics once we powered back up. Which isn't really my forte'." Wil, Hale, he's looking at you. "But I think it could work. I mean, more than that. I /believe/ it will work, with some developing."

There's a bit of an eyeroll on Willem's part as he, well, he caught Hale's comment with such a prominent show of attention he just might have missed Roubani's look. "That was completely and utterly -foul-, Rabbit," he comments with a bit of faux-prudence. But back to the topic at hand. "Anyway. Cylon systems. Did they rip anything resembling IFF out of the guts of that crashed Raider? I'd pay -big money- to find out what they discovered. I'd -hoped- they'd discovered something like that though. Beyond that, I have another question here. Quite simply, any idea where we'd be attacking? Sorry to take a top-level strategic approach here but I find it's easier to, y'know, start with a humble beginning. They seem to know we've been puttering around on Scorpia. Haven't found us at Solon. Yet. We need to put them on the defensive, which means we need information. Bonus points if we can hit them somewhere where we have the advantage of cover. If I think back to school as well as Academy days, I recall that certain types of radiation disrupted their technology?"

"Depends on how you want it to do- Really could be something where we're listlessly flying about in debris, and thus we can lure em in before popping them where it hurts.." Though it is doubtful a raider pack would come that close to be grouped in debris.. "Something we might also want to take into account- is our ships and their powering up capabilities- we've had some hard hits to our birds, since the Odysseus." so remember kiddos, that will play a part in all of this. "Also I am curious how close we can get to one of their basestars in order to do any bloody damage- Who is to say they can't tell that pilots are in the dark birds?" He's not trying to rain on the parade, in fact Hale's just trying to figure out how this will all fall down.

Kai shuts the drawer, slides a pen out of his jacket pocket, and begins flipping through the report he'd pulled out. He can't help but overhear snatches of conversation from the pilots nearby; one or two things catch his attention with a flick of blue eyes, but he still doesn't interject. Scribble, scribble.

"I'm not sure," Roubani tells Willem, scratching his lower. "About the IFF. It's been a while since I was on that project. We'd have to corner Engineering and see if they're ready to share what they had. Consolidating all this is the only way we'd be able to pull this off." His speech is slowly speeding up as gears turn. "Did radiation disrupt them? Really? Would that affect our own systems, I wonder…but goodness, wouldn't that be the icing on the cake, if we could get in close /and/ disrupt them long enough to have them in a tizzy?" Boom boom basestar. To Hale he nods quickly. "We'd have to take extra precaution shielding any bio data from the pilots, but that too could be done."

"I don't have the specific figures so, y'know. 'Fraid I'm full of disappointment in that regard but we -did- build them originally and know how their neural architecture worked." Wil says finally as he nods his head in a slow motion, jutting his chin out at Roubani in indication as he knits his hands upon his lap after opening his binder. He hasn't picked up a pen just yet, however. "Well, we'll deal with the IFF possibilities as a 'maybe'. Lt. Hale here also brings up a good point. Visual scans? Remember, though. It's space. Unless they have some sort of insane thermal imaging and can tell there are live humans in our birds…" He trails off, glancing up briefly at Kai to see if the Captain has anything to add. "Never mind radiological imaging, which we have to assume they -do- possess."

There's a faint look to Kai, from Hale-keeping tabs on the CAG, before he's looking back to Roubani, as he and Willem go into technospeak which goes beyond Hale's basic pilot comprehension. Arms crossing at his chest, as he listens on anyway. "I think as to what it would do to our own systems and pilots-would depend on the amount and type?" just a guess there, before he is looking back "Its a tetchy thing, but it can be done- If we can make em think they've come upon either a graveyard of us, or pop out from behind a gaseous cloud-that could help our chances immensely."

"We can address thermal quite easily," Roubani says, ticking up a finger. "And visual. Even if I guess 'visual' is kind of useless term when talking about raiders and basestars…" He muses on that a moment, giving himself pause. But then he goes on, waving a hand. "Anyway, that can be done. We'd have to get that information on engineering on what sort of sensors they might've found in that raider cockpit. There's a whole bloody chunk of it up there, there must be /something/." His fingers tap restlessly against the chair back, nodding to Hale. "That's exactly the sort of thing I wanted to ask both of you about. Staging. How to best attack once we /are/ running at full again. I'm not a very good tactician once it goes past the wires and bolts. The two of you, though, are."

After a quick glance at his watch, the CAG finishes off a few notes in the margin of the report he's perusing, and flips the folder closed. He buttons the top flap of his uniform as he's moving to his feet, and steps out unobtrusively so as not to disrupt the conversation. Must be time for a meeting.

Kai heads through the exit labeled <O> Hallway.
Kai has left.

"I think we got some tinfoil and red paint sitting around down on Solon." Willem says, haltingly. Uh oh, joke time. "Um, to address visual. I can make a centurion hat. Check. They'll never see -my- ass coming, you can bet money." With another affected 'ahem' he brings the back of his hand to his mouth and frowns a little, slipping into something more resembling total seriousness. "But. Yeah, staging. I scored shockingly well in wargames but I don't know how -proven- I am at all this. Still, I'm, y'know. Flattered." He smirks yet again. "Yeah. There are debris fields. The key is, how would we lure the Toasters to where we wanted, or find a juicy place to hit them?"

Hale grins back towards Willem, before he's looking and nodding off as the CAG slips out mostly unnoticed. A turn of his head and eyes are back and focused on the topic at hand, which is not making centurion masks. Perhaps the wrong time for that particular idea. "Staging is going to be the key here. Bloody can't win the game if we don't have our offense and defense planned out." Ah yes leave it to Hale to throw in some pyramid reference amongst the proceedings. "We'd have to give em a target, like a bloody- or what were those boats called in the first war- painted up an distressed to look like wounded troop carriers, when in fact they were gun ships with a few vipers in escort..You know what I am talking about?"

Roubani's eyes flicker as Kai goes, but it barely dings his radar. He gives Willem an amused look, which then fades, and he picks up his pen. His thumb starts it spinning over his knuckles, his eyes flashing briefly as he thinks. "Is that what they did?" He asks Hale, curiously. Military history wasn't his thing. "And it worked?"

"The Admiral Mannix maneuver." Wil quips, slowly nodding in time in Hale's direction after he cups his fingertips to his chin, rumbling a bit. "That. Yeah. It -sometimes- worked. Still were losses, though." Likewise, he cups his own pen between his fingertips, and starts scribbling. "Have to give them a target. Now things are a little different. Basically we have to make them think we're going to be somewhere, only to pop out somewhere -else.- I don't suppose we could give them a little payback with that phony distress call business."

"If there was a way to generate a cylon distress signal.." Not that would be something quite interesting to see. "Yeah." Hale adds back towards Willem. "Always a thought though, if we cannot generate a false distress code of one of theirs. We could at least bloody try to make em think one of ours was hurt. Something with enough package to level the playing field, and keep them focused on it, instead of on us."

"If only we had another ship," Roubani muses, drily. "We could set the Kharon itself adrift like a bleeding body in a shark tank." He snorts quietly. "Perhaps there's another way to 'fake' a hurt vessel. The distress signal's a good idea…what if we set out some of our old communication drones and had them bounce those false signals?"

"Right. A -COLONIAL- signal. I've been saying this to myself ten times a day. Another ship. The Bell survived as long as it did. Well, we have another fuel source," Wil narrates as he himself starts scribbling. "With that, we can start a lot more thorough scouring of Colonial space to see what's about, just to be certain."

"That's the thing, where are we going to find a better ship than what we have." Hale asks. "Bloody thing is, we'd need a battlestar or an assaultstar to have something that'll come close to being better than the CEC- Because like frak we find ourselves in a downgrade or something with as much damage as she has seen." A rub of his brow, before he's looking back towards Willem. "Tricky part is,, I doubt we'll find anything in a shipyard, or known naval yard."

Roubani makes a slight face. "If only. I mean, we /are/ going to Ragnar and all that, but I wouldn't think we'd get so lucky. Who knows. But the drones might work." He taps the pen repeatedly against the back of the chair. "Once we're reloaded with ammunition I'll be damned if all we use it for is to keep running away. We can do this."

"Ragnar, huh? What did we have there?" Wil says, pensively, picking up the pen and tapping it against the side of his mouth in an absent manner. "Giant gas cloud if I'm not mistaken. Speaking of radiation and interference. We can do this." He echoes Poet.

"Well we can." Hale notes from his own spot, one finger up as if to draw attention to the fact that they can do that. "However, it would be preferable to go on the offensive every now and then. Thing is mates, we need to pick our battles carefully, lest we get into something that ends us all." A shrug there. "Though if we go out, I say fight against the night, and do not go quietly."

Roubani makes a dry chuckle under his breath at Hale. "What else have we got to do up here? Stay alive until we all die, one way or another. And bloody starving to death is far less dignified." He glances at Wil, raising an eyebrow. "There's a giant gas cloud at Ragnar?"

"Eh. Well. Ragnar. That's what it -is- if I recall correctly." Wil corrects himself hastily, leaning forward in his chair. "But, regarding action vs starving? I agree. Uh huh. So say we all." He tacks on the last part a bit unsure, sounding like an afterthought.

"I am just speaking th' angles mates. Trust me, I'd rather fly where eagles dare." And hands are down as he looks back to the other two. "Just speaking what Command might say- If we had a stronger ship, us sending the Kharon out to die would be perfect. Maybe a skeleton crew to get her in position. Limp her about, then fire off all the ordinance, Raptor them out as we come in and just rake th' shite out of em." A grin "Specially, if we're hiding in the gas at Ragnar.."

The beauty of the thought. Roubani smirks, just turning that over in his head. "Well, we can see what we've got at Ragnar to work with. Otherwise we'll need a backup." He shifts in his chair. "Alright. Marek said to submit a plan to him. I've got to get in the sims and a real Viper and re-test this boot procedure, get it tweaked. We'll have to get him to sign off on our bothering Engineering about their data. And we need a few good staging plans, that one included."

"The toys our forebears left strewn about." Willem muses, lightly, still tapping with an uneasy sort of rhythm. "Well. Not forebears. They seem distant though. Like ancestors. Is that odd?" Shaking his head, he re-rails his thought process to return to topic. "We need ships. Maybe even nukes. Something else I was considering — do we know how badly that Raider was totalled when it hit? Salvagable?"

Matto arrives from the Hallway - Hangar Deck.
Matto has arrived.

"Nukes aren't exactly toys." A shake of his head, before he is rising out of his desk. Papers plucked up to go and set up on the podium for a moment. A turn of his head back to the other. "We need a ship- better ship. Ships would be nice, but right now, let us settle for one eh, mates?" Hale offers before he's looking back towards Willem. "Why- you think we could manage to fly it, or something?"

"Oh, and we're going need to Raptor input as well to make it completely solid. A good ECO, especially, like Thorn." Roubani's pen scratches on the paper, making another of many notes. He shakes his head at Willem. "It's in pieces. There's a cockpit and part of a wing, that was about all." He sounds a bit disappointed about the fact, himself.

"Just a theory. I've been watching myself lately." Willem says, the disappointment shading his words just ever-so-slightly. "That's the kind of thing that happens when, er, well. You know. People start getting assassinated." He says this, frankly, not even -willing- to touch the topic of the Commander's death beyond this simple, matter-of-fact statement. "Heh. I don't know how I'd fly a Cylon ship, even. That's — sorry. Just throwing ideas out there. The key to all this is to lure a baseship to a false target and deliver a crushing amount of ordinance in a small time. That's why nukes might be the -best- kind of toys. We learned it by watching -them-, right?" He asks, a bit of harshness present in the last part of the statement.

"I see." said back towards Willem, before he's nodding all the same-not going to touch the recent bombing with an eight foot stick of anything really. "Well, I like the idea of using the thing to get close..if there was a way to wire it to fly, it would be the best bet for delivering a nuke- That frakker would get up and close on the doorstep. Enough for a launch, at least before you could tear arse out of there." Hale offers. A glance back to the other. "If you want, I could do it-though who ever had to drop the nuke would have to fly like hades back. They'd want you in pieces.."

"It's not enough to fly," Roubani reiterates, spreading his hands. "It's a cockpit and a wing, unless they've doen wonders with duct tape."

Castor arrives from the Hallway - Hangar Deck.
Castor has arrived.

Matto trundles in, turning right from his first entrance in and heading a few steps along toward the back corner he generally haunts with his notes before his attention wanders to the group of conspirators and he flashes them a bright smile, having no notion yet what they're talking about. In any event he settles in, not interrupting otherwise.

"Not spaceworthy." Willem notes, nodding with a faint arc of his head. "No duct tape, either. So we've got to find some other way. IFF, or Poet's 'systems cold' theory. Actually, I wonder if we could actually lure the Cylons themselves -to- the nuke. Not the other way around."

"Hm." Roubani's brows draw as he ponders this. "Well, think about, Price. I need to get that systems process done and documented. You and Hale work on staging hypotheticals. Cover every base you can think of. I'd prefer to get a preliminary proposal in sooner rather than later, considering Ragnar. As I'm sure they'll tear it to pieces and send it back for revision before we're ready to take it all on. But we will find a way. I don't know about the rest of this wing, but I'd like to see what an exploding basestar looks like before I die."

"Its a bloody massive cockpit and a wing. It'll be different than our sleek numbers." Hale muses from the podium as he continues getting things ready for the next shift in. "I think we could do both, really. If there was a way through IFF, might as well use it, along with our own ideas as back-Frak if I know." And with that he looks back to Roubani silencing up for a moment. "I'll play some wargames with you, once we have our modules set, Rebound. After all I got to chatter to you somehow now that we're not on wing together.." A half grin, before he's turning to look to the hatch. "Matto." called before he is literally, back in the game. "As I said mates, count me in."

Matto's attention doesn't stay long with the paperwork he's got settled on top of his topmost knee, one leg crossed over the other. No— there are people down there chattering about luring Cylons and exploding base ships and other rather dangerous and unpleasant sounding affairs. Brows draw together, one just faintly raised in a reticent expression before the other one pops upward to join it and he tips his chin up a little as a greeting to the Rabbit.

"Another exploding basestar. The first one was a cheat." Wil says, succintly, in a soft tone. "Lure them in. Find some way to hide the nuke until they're in range. BOOM." Price repeats in a simple, 'it's elementary'-style format. This done, he slaps the binder shut and starts to amble to his feet. "Once I figure out where we're going I can sketch out a couple scenarios. You're both free to join me with that." He adds an aside nod to Matto shortly thereafter.

Leda steps in from CAP and he has a report to figure out and as he walks in he stops and he studies the room as he isn't sure of what is going on here and so he says, "Are we having a meeting that no one told me about?" He then turns his attention sligthtly as he hears talk about exploding basestas and he then raises an eyebrow and he says nothing else but instead he takes a seat and begins work on his report.

Willem clears his throat and starts ambling towards the hatch. "Um. Yes." He tosses out there in the arriving Leda's direction, matter-of-factly. He then keeps on going.

Roubani sucks his teeth quietly at Willem's back. Tsk. "No," he tells Castor. "It was a rather impromptu brainstorming." The projection screen is still down and he hits a button, lights coming back on as the screen starts to roll up. "'Offensive against the cylons. Discuss.'" He sounds quite upbeat, and more focused than he has in a long while. He nods to Hale. "Staging, that's what we need. I leave that in your and Price's hands. Like I said, I'm no tactician." A faint smirk, then he finally spots the quiet Matto too. "Kisseus. You got my note, I hope?" Vague. But he seems confident Matto knows what he's talking about.

Matto hms? It's an instinctual noise as his brain takes a moment to switch gears from chasing after Cylons, which, from the somewhat amusedly incredulous stare he gives as his only reply to the proposed topic of the brainstorm, seems to him to be among the poorer of plans, to the matter of the note. The split second of confusion is soon dispelled by realization, "Oh— mm'hm," he adds with a nod in the affirmative. "Shouldn't be a problem. Why are we fighting Cylons?" he then asks.

"Later Price." Called behind Willem as he pops out, before he's shifting all of his papers around, a few more things before the next shift begins and he'll give the usual jammer on. A glance is spared to Leda for a second, before he's nodding again to Roubani "Well, one of my tactic idears paid off, lessee if I cannot come up with another gem." After all his ACF tactics seemed to just make everything slide just so, enough of a distraction to take out landing platforms, and get folks covered to come home. "We'll roll it around. One thing I love about Rebound is, he can see flaws where I don't some times." A pause before he's looking between Matto and Roubani for a second. "Oh-Oh. Poet- that reminded me of something.."

Castor looks over at Matto for a moment and he gives a grin before he looks over at Roubani and he says, "Ah, well, keep up with the planning then." He doesn't say anything but he begins to wonder what this plan is and he notes that leading the cylons to a nuke might be a bit more difficult than they think but then again these are some of the smartest pilots in the wing. He then continues to check some things off on this clip board and he asks since his curiousity gets him, "The why is easy but what does your plan revolve around?"

"Because frankly, I am tired of waiting to die," Roubani replies to Matto, as he shuts his notebooks. "I can smell that feeling in the air and I'm sick of it." There's a slight smirk at the Raptor pilot. "Don't worry. It has to go through all manner of command, and it's their job to be more conservative than we are. But we're still going to send it up." And that's that, posies. To Castor he says, "The Odysseus exercise, if you remember it, and a lure tactic. Exactly what that lure is, that's Hale and Price's coup de grace." Then to Hale, as he picks up his notebooks, he goes, "Hmm? Oh. By the way Kisseus, Leda, Hale is getting married." That done, his eyes flick back to the Lieutenant. "Pardon me, reminded of what?"

Matto considers Nadiv's position on the matter for just long enough to put some earnest thought into it before maintaining an easy neutrality with a lazy lift of one shoulder in a 'meh?' gesture. "Well, I'm sure you'll come up with a lovely plan, and whatever command decides will be perfectly alright," he equivocates, but warmly. Brows rise, then, "Oh? Congratulations, dude," he offers the Rabbit with a smile. "Who to?" he goes on to ask.

"Maybe you should wash more carefully." Hale quips to Roubani, on the whole smell of the feeling, even if the expression is not lost on him what so ever. Still there's a faint nod before he's got the notes lined up, and it is a few steps to the white board to see who will be coming up- time slots and all. However, just because he is not eyeing Roubani- it doesn't mean that he doesn't catch the other. "Thank you-Poet." a laugh given once "Oh." A look over his shoulder "A chat, I was meaning to have with you a while back. Bloody escaped my mind."

And there's a grin over to Matto "Thanks mate." and a beat "To Captain Eos."

A grin is given to Hale as he finished his report and he says, "Congrats, that is the third wedding now I've heard about." He then says, "Maybe we should have a massive three wedding ceremony." He then begins to look over his report and he says, "And as for the plan I am sure things will work out swimmingly since you are some of the best pilots in the fleet." He then takes a moment stand and place his report in the appropriate location before he turns back to look at everyone and he listens in now as his report is in and he is this close to being off duty.

"Well," Roubani tells Matto, with dry amusement. "More likely command will laugh us halfway back to Kobol, but I do believe I'm alright with that." Hale gets a blankly curious look at the mention of a chat. "Certainly. After CAP, perhaps?" A glance at his watch, since said CAP is looming, and he gathers up his heavy notebooks in arms. A couple steps closer to the hatch pauses him right by Matto, where he lingers for a few seconds to watch all the congrats and everything to Hale. Daww, nice little moment.

A nod is given towards Roubani, before Hale's nabbing up an assignment paper moving to hand it over before Poet can dash out. "Worth th' shot anyway." Abe chimes in before he's looking back to Castor for a second. "Thanks mate." A grin given the other lieutenant, before he's raising a brow. "Who is the third?"

Matto's brows draw together for a moment as Hale makes the second person to comment on N's showering habits in as many days and he begins to wonder whether his own nose might be broken somehow. In any case, when Nadiv comes to stand near, he reaches out a hand to idly pick a bit of lint from the knee of the Poet's trousers, then fixes the pleating and gives it a light tug to make it all set right again. "Captain Eos?" he repeats, sounding a little surprised. Who knows why, exactly, but he does. "Well, that's nice, you two being happy together," he does offer with a tender sort of smile before looking to Castor expectantly. Woefully behind on the gossips.

"Well, lets see you and Eos, Wil and Persy, and the XO and Locke." Castor says as he makes a sour face, "Seriously, I need to find a dress for Locke since she has the idea that we should have a communal dress to pass down. I mean I think I can find something we can bleach white but it won't be traditional." He shrugs as he mind goes through the Kharon and all that he knows is on it and who has it and then says to Hale, "Again, the Captain is a good catch and a you won the lottery on that one."

Roubani makes no eye contact as the conversation twists and turns. He glances down as Matto catches some stray lintbeast on his uniform, offering a slightly embarassed smile. Lint. Gosh. A small nod to Hale as he accepts the paper, eyes down on the print to skim it over before glancing at his watch again. "I've got to get ready for CAP," he murmurs, before finally looking up again. "You gentlemen take care."

"You too mate." Hale tacts on for Roubani, before he is looking back towards Matto and he nods. "Thank you." once more before it seems he too is heading out to gear up for the incoming CAPs, or switch out of his flightsuit. Hard to tell. There's a look back towards Castor "Well, if we see a dress, we'll let ya know..Though I spect Greys will work just fine." But then Hale's been married once before. A squeeze by Matto. "Take care, you lot."